Tuesday, August 11, 2015

Hyperemesis Gravidarum From a Child's Point of View

I know that I have mentioned before that my mom and her six sisters also suffer Hyperemesis Gravidarum like I did with my boys. My mom endured HG five times. I am the oldest of my siblings and I saw more of it than any of them.

I often hear moms with HG seriously concerned about their children while they are suffering with HG. When you have HG it is really hard to do everything you would normally do. I remember crying because I was too sick to get Andrew ready for his first Halloween. I was pretty mad about it. Near the end of that pregnancy I was vomiting out of control again, and I remember hunching over the toilet and violently puking. Drew toddled in and bent over the toilet too. He started making a scratchy throat noise. He looked up at me and gave me a dimpled smile and a hug and my heart broke. What on earth was I teaching my kid??

The only thing that brought me comfort was my own memories of my mom having HG.

My earliest memories are of my daddy teaching me how to call his work and then call 911 just in case my mom passed out while he was at work. I was three years old and my mom was pregnant with my sister, Samantha.

I remember mom being hospitalized for severe dehydration. Daddy would take us to the hospital gift shop and we would pick out a Beanie Baby. We had quite a collection after a while. I wish I had a picture of it to show.

I remember people coming over to clean our house. I came home from school once and one of my mom's best friends was over and she put me to work with her. I was not happy about it because I wanted to watch my TV shows.

I remember hearing my mom throw up during the night. I remember her crying. But I was so young I didn't really fully comprehend just how serious it was. By the time she had her third baby I just thought it was normal.

I remember the first time I saw my best friend's mom at eight months pregnant. She was eating a burger. She looked so healthy and I asked my friend where her IV was. I asked my mom why she got so sick and my friend's mom didn't. Mom said that her body had to grow a baby a different way. That her body didn't handle babies well, and that they made her sick.

My mom got worse with each pregnancy. If you talk to her now she will tell you how she wanted to stop with her third child. She had my sister and brother so close (my brother was a surprise baby) and she wanted to be done. But she went on to have two more. By the time she had her fifth she had a PICC line.

I remember the pregnancy with my youngest sibling the most. I was ten years old. I remember she had a wonderful home healthcare nurse named Queeny. Queeny would come over and let me "help." I got to help start the IV, and I got to push her saline flush. I felt so grown up. I remember mom just slept down stairs in our big green chair while she got her IVs. She looked so skinny. I remember my grandma and aunts coming over to help mom shower. I remember laughing hysterically when she called one of us by the dog's name. Now that I'm older I realize she was so dehydrated she probably wasn't thinking clearly and didn't mean to. I remember my brother was born early because mom when into preterm labor due to dehydration. (A lot of this happened to me with my second baby, which makes me so nervous to have anymore.)

Overall, I don't remember all of the bad moments. It didn't impact our relationship. I never questioned if my mom loved us or not. I understood she was sick. And now that I have gone through it myself I feel bad that I didn't help her more. But I was a kid. I did kid things and lived in my little happy world. I had a fairly normal childhood.

I don't think Drew will remember much of my pregnancy with Ben. But if he does, I hope he remembers how much he loved squishing my vitamins into my TPN bag instead of pretending to throw up with me.

There is a book I found on Amazon called "Mama has Hyperemesis Gravidarum (But Only for a While)." We bought it for my boys just in case we decide to have a third baby. (NO that is NOT a hint or an announcement!) 

I tried reading it to Drew the day I got it but I couldn't make it through without crying. It brought back so many emotions and memories for me, both as an HG child and as an HG mom. I love how it always mentions that this condition is only temporary. The only thing I don't like about it is that the Mom gets better after a while before she has the baby and continues on with a normal pregnancy. Some moms get lucky and get that kind of HG pregnancy (that is how I was when pregnant with Drew) and then some moms don't get better until after the baby is born (like my pregnancy with Benjamin). But it is still a very good book. You can purchase it here. I've heard wonderful reviews about it from other HG moms.

Take a deep breath. You are doing your best. And like the book says, "It's only for a little while." (Only nine months is a LONG little while when you feel like death!)!But it does end. It does get better, and it will only be a tiny moment in your child's mind compared to all the YEARS of love and memories with you. I could barely take care of Andrew. He wanted my mom and sister more than me, but now he is a total mommy's boy. This too will pass. YOU ARE A GOOD MOM.

Follow me on Instagram: @diariesofasupermom 

My Post-Birth Plan

One of my biggest fears about having a second child was the fear of enduring PPD again.

I felt so guilty for all that I missed with my first son. All the days I spent crying, sleeping, and dragging myself through day to day. I wanted to do everything I could to avoid putting me and my family through that again.

I know before some moms give birth, they write up a birth plan. A birth plan is basically a document that tells your medical team how you would like your labor and delivery to go. Of course, you cannot always control every aspect of labor and delivery, so it is important to stay flexible and open to changes in case things don't go according to plan. I pretty much wanted to do the same thing, only for after I had my baby.

I sat down with my husband and we came up with a list of things that we could have done to help me with my first postpartum recovery. Things like going outside, getting more rest/sleep, letting people help me, making time for me and for date nights with my husband a priority, setting realistic expectations and goals for myself, and remaining flexible if something did go wrong.
(Photo credit: Rezzen Photography) 

I made a list of people I could call if I needed help, along with their phone numbers and available hours.

I made small goals for myself. For example, a week after Benjamin was born my goal was to spend at least 15 minutes outside three times a week. I could do it in five minute intervals, I could spend even longer outside if I wanted to, but I could not spend less than my goal. The sunshine and fresh air helped relax me and make me feel semi-normal. It was a cool and sunny April. My oldest loved to toddle around the yard, and my new born watch safely from my arms. No matter how brief, it always felt really good to be outside and just enjoy that big blue sky.

I set realistic expectations. With my first boy, breastfeeding didn't work out and I ended up pumping for six months because I had an irrational fear of formula, thanks to social media and mommy wars. Pumping was extremely hard on me. This time I promised myself that I would give breastfeeding my best shot. I wasn't going to leave  the hospital without double checking with the LC that he had a correct latch  and that I was doing it right. I stalked up on breastfeeding essentials. I read everything on breastfeeding that I could get my hands on. And if all else failed and formula was best for my son, I would proudly be a formula feeder knowing that I was giving my son the best that I could. (Because, you know, fed is best.)

I allowed myself to heal. Having a baby can be hard on a body, physically and emotionally. I'm not saying you need to be a total couch potato. If you feel well enough to be up and moving then I highly recommend it. I felt SO good after I had Ben and stopped throwing up. I had so much energy that I hadn't had in months! Listen to your body. Don't overdo it. Sometimes I would put my oldest down for a nap, sit down to nurse my baby, close my eyes and just relax. Those were such peaceful afternoons. I didn't stress over messes. I knew I'd get to them eventually, and if I didn't I knew my husband would. It was more important that I heal properly than it was to have a spotless house.


My husband helped make a break schedule for me. On certain days that he was available, he would watch the boys for an hour or two while I either went to the store by myself (forget Disneyland, that was a REAL vacation for me!) or took a nap to get some rest. I didn't like to be gone for more than 45 minutes if I went out for fear that my breastfed baby would refuse a bottle and be starving. But those 45 minutes of getting out of the house were so good for my mental health. I remember wandering our local dollar tree in my running sweats and just enjoying the cheesy music and the fact that no one was screaming at me for food or running from me while I tried to change a diaper.

I also tried to make time for me. Crafting and reading were my getaways. Even if it meant missing out on an hour of precious sleep every once in a while, it was worth the sacrifice to see something I worked hard on and made myself. It's a great feeling creating something with your own two hands. It meant I was tired the next day, but it made me so happy doing what I loved.

I also made a list of things to watch for in my moods. Rage, anxiety, OCD, intrusive thoughts, unexplainable sadness, not bonding with my baby, basically shutting down and going on to autopilot.

I allowed myself to have bad days. After you have a baby your hormones can get out of wack trying to adjust, and sometimes bad days just happen. And that's okay. I just took it one day at a time and always tried to do better the next day.


The moment Tyler or anyone else mentioned I wasn't acting myself, I was to go see my doctor ASAP. I know some moms might choose to try to fight it on their own before seeing a doctor. And that is fine. I just know for me that it didn't work last time. It got worse despite my efforts and it almost ended badly. I didn't want to risk that at all. My husband and my sons deserved a healthy, happy wife and mommy. I was not going to take any more chances.

I took time to make myself feel pretty. I showered at least every day, if not every other day. I at least brushed my hair and pulled it out of the way. I always wore a little makeup too. Not to impress anyone, but to make me feel important in my role as a mother. I know my boys didn't care if I was dressed up, but it made me feel human. It also helped my self-esteem, especially when I was over eating as if my body was scared to starve again. (I gained all my baby weight after I delivered.) When I got the OK from my doctor, and felt well enough to do it, I started doing simple exercises to heal my Diastasis Recti (more on that later!) and going for walks. And by "going for walks" I mean walking up and down my basement stairs for half an hour at a time because going for a walk with a nursing newborn and active toddler is crazy. I also tried to be patient with myself as I worked on losing that after-baby weight.

I also came up with a plan with my doctor before I delivered about what kind of medication and treatment I wanted to do if I needed that kind of help. It was nice to know my options and to know that I had a good support system ready, just in case my post-birth plan failed.

I would also like to mention the option of placenta encapsulation. I know several mothers who have consumed their placenta in various ways and they say it helped a lot with their postpartum recovery, as well as avoiding PPD. I personally do not choose this for my own personal reasons, but I know several amazing mothers who have and it has worked well for them. I would like to point out though, that it is NOT a guarantee. Someone close to me tried placenta encapsulation and she still got severe PPD. And because everyone else swore it would be a cure, it made her feel even worse, as if she was a hopeless case. I don't want any mother to ever feel that way, so if you choose to do this, please know that it works differently for everyone.

 I am happy to say that, for the most part, my post-birth plan worked. I still ran into a small bout of depression when Benjamin was about four months old, but thanks to my plan it was quickly addressed and I as well cared for and recovered a lot faster than I did the first time. But my overall postpartum experience was SO much better than it was the first time. I am now ten months postpartum and I feel amazing. I bonded with my new son. I successfully nursed him for nine months (which was three months longer than my original goal), I felt well enough to do fun things with my toddler, and I didn't hate myself. I actually loved myself through my healing process. I had some good days, some bad days, and some crazy days where I wanted to rip my hair out, but it was all a breeze compared to my first recovery. This time I DID feel on top of the world. It was crazy and overwhelming and hard, but it was so, so beautiful. I actually miss my son being a tiny newborn. I miss it so much. I couldn't say that about my oldest boy. Those early days were hard on me. 


I wrote my post-birth plan based on my personal needs and made sure every area of concern had a plan and was covered. I signed it, and my husband signed it. Just to make it official and kind of "seal the deal." Do what works for you and what you feel is best. Be kind to yourself, and don't ever be afraid to get help.

Don't forget to follow me on Instagram @diariesofasupermom for more posts on PPD and how you can help raise awareness.

Dear Son: From a Mom with PPD

My darling son,

I loved you the moment I knew you existed. I loved you through all the puking, every IV, every pound lost and every ache in my hips. I counted your kicks and the days until you arrived. I was young but I was so excited to be your Mommy. 

I had your name all picked out until the first night I dreamed about you. We were going to call you Caden. I dreamed you your name was Andrew, (Drew for short) which has been my favorite boy name since high school. From that moment on I couldn't call you anything but Andrew. Andrew means warrior and guardian. And it fits you so well, my little Drew Bear.

On the day you were born I was scared out of my mind. You came out all perfect and new. You didn't cry at all. I remember the nurse rubbing you and telling me you had dimples. Oh, how I love your dimples! But you still never cried. You were so calm and curious. Daddy handed you to me and your giant blue eyes looked up at me like no one has ever looked at me before. 

I remember trying to nurse you. You screamed. It made my heart hurt. I couldn't figure out what I was doing wrong. You were happier with a bottle. But I couldn't give you formula. I didn't want to be labeled a bad mom. So I pumped.

 I wanted to bond with you. I wanted to play and dress you up and sing to you every day. But I felt like such a bad mom. You were so perfect. You deserved the best and I didn't feel like I measured up. I can remember your tiny eyes watching me as I fed you. But I looked away. I can't explain why. I loved you more than anything. But I felt like I was failing you already. I was exhausted. Pumping milk for you was the only thing I seemed to get right. All I did was cry and sleep. I had Postpartum Depression. And I am so, so sorry. I know you probably don't remember. But I do. 

The guilt I feel for not being there for you mentally and emotionally is crippling. I feel so guilty for not being the kind of mom I wanted to be. It tears me up to think about how absent I was your first four months. I had thoughts of hurting myself. Leaving you with your grandma so you'd be safe and then disappearing. I hated myself. I wanted to be a model super-mom and I was so exhausted physically and mentally that the most I could do was basic motions. Feed you, change you, clean you, put you to sleep. Snap a happy picture so no one would guess. All of that completely burnt me out.

I barely took care of myself. I hardly showered, makeup and hair required standing so long and I was too tired for that. I just wanted to sleep. I was so scared something would happen to you so I never let anyone else watch you. I was your mom and it was my job. I shouldn't need help, right? Oh, how I wish I had asked for help sooner. 

I never ever want you to think it was your fault. It is no ones fault. It was a hormonal imbalance. There is nothing anyone really could have done. And as much as I wish I didn't get it, I did. It was a big trial for me. I just wish it didn't have to impact you too. 
(Drew and I when I was 8 months pregnant with my second boy. Drew was 15 months old.) 

I'm sorry I almost gave in to the darkness. I'm so sorry I didn't go see my doctor sooner. I hold you in my lap now, a big two year old boy, and I wish I could squish you back into a small baby so I can start over. I would give anything to have those days back with you. It took me so long to feel like we were bonding. 


I'm so glad I am your Mommy. I love you and your brother more than anything and I'm so excited to watch you both grow. I love your hugs and kisses. I love your singing and your silly sense of humor. I love how kind you are. I love how incredibly smart and observant you are. I love your strong will. I love your cute little voice when you say, "Mommy? Hold you?" I love your dimpled smile. 

But all of that is in the past now. I'M BACK. And I'm so excited to finally be the Mommy I always wanted to be. I'm so glad I got help before it was too late. I'm so proud to call you my son. And I hope someday I can fully forgive myself for those first four months. As much as I would love to go back and fix it, I cannot. I can only nourish the bond we have now and cherish every second I have with you. 

Thank you for loving me through it all. You were my light in dark places. I don't know what I'd do without my little Warrior. 

Love always, 



Mommy

What We Wish We Knew About Postpartum Depression

Before I had my first baby, I honestly thought that depression was something that could be cured with a brisk walk, some inspirational quotes or good religion, and some laughter. I thought that moms who got PPD were just missing their old life and being big babies about it. It would never happen to me. I was a pretty happy person, and I was excited to be a mom! All my life all I ever wanted was to be a mom. I was just so sure I would be amazing at it.

Before we left the hospital I remember they had me watch a video on basic baby care and what to expect for my postpartum recovery. They did mention PPD, but it seriously was no more than a thirteen second spill about how if you are not feeling yourself after two week then you need to see your doctor. That was IT.

Why didn't anyone say anything? Why didn't anyone tell me how common it was? Why didn't anyone tell me that PPD doesn't just include depression and sadness? Why didn't anyone mention Postpartum Anxiety or Postpartum OCD? Why didn't anyone warn me? The moment I opened up about my PPD, I had several moms I had known my whole life tell me their stories and reassure me it was OK. But why didn't they ever mention it before? What if I had just kept it to myself and suffered in silence? I felt so completely alone until I opened up about what I was going through. In fact, that is why I put off getting help. I felt like a complete freak. I was mentally ill and I knew it. I was embarrassed and so frustrated that I couldn't just get it under control by myself. All the other moms I knew seemed to be doing just dandy. Why was I struggling so much, and they were easing into motherhood so gracefully?

Because things like this are all too often kept quiet. No one wants to hear or see the dark side that can come with motherhood. Because no one wants to admit they have a problem, a mental illness. Because moms are afraid of what people will think. They are afraid of being judged. They are afraid they might have their children taken away. They want to get better. They want to be themselves again, but because our society frowns upon mental illness, we don't want to be labeled as "crazy." They feel guilty because they feel like they failed, when in reality PPD is beyond control. It is no one's fault. 


This is a picture of me shortly after having my son. I look happy. I was good at pretending to be happy. But I knew something wasn't right. Drew had latching problems, and according to everything I read on the internet, he HAD to get my breastmilk or I was a bad and lazy mom. I stayed up all night pumping, feeding, burping, pumping, feeding, burping. Oh, I was beyond exhausted. I started to resent pumping, but I felt like it was the only thing I was doing right. I became angry at everyone. My husband, myself, my baby. Everyone. My mental health suffered incredibly. But "breast is best" and no one seemed to care how I was doing. All that mattered was that he was getting my milk.

Long story short, I was fully ready to attempt suicide. I had several ways planned out. And this part is extremely hard for me to admit, because I have several friends and family that view suicide as "selfish." I would like to tell you all right now that when I was in this dark place, I was not myself.  I was not thinking clearly at all. I had all of these horrible, dark, and very scary thoughts flying at me all the time. I honestly felt like my mind was in a fog. I felt like I was crazy. I wasn't thinking of being selfish. I wasn't really thinking at all. My mind was sick. In my head, it made sense that my husband and child were better off without me. Now I realize how crazy that sounds. It was not a conscious thought. And the moment I realized just how bad these thoughts were, I finally went in for help. So before you label someone as "selfish" please remember that they are probably not thinking clearly. Depression is like cancer of the mind. In the words of my mom, they don't die of suicide. They die of sadness.

I keep thinking of all the things I wish I knew about PPD before I had my baby. I decided to source some amazing women who are currently battling PPD, and they gave me some amazing answers. I would like to thank each and every one of them for contributing to this post. You are all amazing and I wish all of you a safe journey to recovery.

Things I wish I knew about PPD... From real PPD mothers.

"Postpartum Depression can happen anytime within the first year of having your baby. I see a lot of moms skeptical of admitting they have PPD when their baby is 7 months old. Yes, you CAN get PPD that late in the game. PPD can even happen after a miscarriage or stillbirth."

"I just wish there were better resources for women with PPD. I spent the first few weeks scouring the Internet for resources, psychiatrists in my area and found none. Postpartum International is a great resource, but not for women who live in remote or rural areas. There were no resources listed for my area. In the end, the best action plan for me was hospitalization. I also had a great OB (thank God!). I wish someone would make, like, an action plan that anyone can follow to treat their PPD. Like, talk to this person and if that doesn't work, do this. I felt like I was lost at sea, just trying to save my life Thank God I found the right path, but it wasn't easy to find the right help."
  
"The anger that comes with it. I always thought PPD was being sad. I didn't know it involved anger. It took so much precious time with my son to figure it out."

"I never believed it was real. Once I accepted it was, I wished someone would have told me that it would've taken everything from me, distorting my life. My mind wouldn't be clear and my emotions running rampant. I would've coped and recovered much faster. And especially that it is possible to recover. At my own pace."

"My husband says he wished someone would've told him how easy/quick it is to relapse from a trigger, no matter how far you get in your recovery."

"That it can show up as PPA (postpartum anxiety) or OCD. I always thought it was just sadness, lack of feeling for baby, etc. I didn't know it could also be anxiety, intrusive thoughts, insomnia, etc."

"I didn't realize that one of the signs was brain fog and that you could wear your self out trying to do everything you normally do, and the PPD would slip right in without any warning."

"It is okay to get help and talk to your doctor regularly after you have your child so that you are awareI had no idea I had it, I thought everyone around me was just crazy."

"I wish I knew it was anxiety, anger and trust issues."

"For me it was anxiety. ..the guilt of not being able to breastfeed, and having a C-section."

The anger, the meltdowns, the feeling you want to die, the anger towards people who just want to be helpful." -Kimberly Hobbs

"That having it doesn't make you crazy but unfortunately many people still think so. Pick who you tell or ask wisely (sadly). But it's nothing to be ashamed of. Coming from a culture where you sweep such things under the rug made me feel ridiculed and like an outcast and made it worse. That it can get extremely serious and if you feel "off" at all, get help immediately because it could mean your life. And that even when it does get better, the bonding with your child doesn't happen immediately for some, which makes you feel guilty thus prolonging a vicious cycle. PPD brought the evil out of me to my significant other too. I became violent. So unlike me.."

"I have had depression and anxiety all my life but nothing compared to PPD. Now that I felt it I think I had it with my other kids, like the intrusive thoughts. I had them but would try to quickly make them disappear because I thought I was crazy and if I told anyone about them they would take away my kids. I got lucky nothing serious happened."

"I wish someone would have told me it can negatively affect your relationship.. Possibly lose your spouse like I did. Cause you to possibly become suicidal like I did as well... 
I wish I would have been told that it's harder then we are told. That you 
may end up hating yourself, no matter how much people tell you it's not your fault. 
That you could live with a lifetime of regret for becoming a completely different person.. Angry, irritable, frustrated.. 
I wish someone told me that I would be getting it.. I wish I listened to my doctor. I wish I could go back and make things right so I can have my family back."





"I wish PPD were more openly talked about at routine checkups and staff were better trained to ask questions and recognize the symptoms. I waited so long to get help out of pure fear they would take my baby away."

"I wish someone told me that your normal self will, chances are, not come back after having the baby. After realizing that I had PPD, I was so stuck on trying to get back to normal to feel better that it made my PPD worse. I wish someone would have explained to me that this is the new normal and you have to accept that. Get help. Deal with it however you have to, so you're not having intrusive thoughts or crying all day or however PPD affected you. But becoming a mom, is a life changer in itself and once you accept the fact that your life changed forever, you won't spend so much time trying to get back to what you used to be. For me, it would've helped knowing that and probably would've helped me deal with PPD easier. I could've focused more on feeling even just a little better rather than what I knew as normal and punishing myself for not "bouncing back."

"Rage. Intrusive thoughts. Insomnia. Crippling anxiety attacks. Self confidence disappearing. More than that I wish I knew it was OK to accept help, and seek help. (This is my second round and this time I did seek meds)"

"The loneliness and the isolation. Feeling like you can't relate to anyone or no one cares about you. That you're alone with your kids and that you're a crappy mom for not appreciating them enough."

"I wish I knew that I would have known that this little person was going to brig so many emotions that I never had. That the love that I would have for her was going to be so overwhelming. Not that I could have prepared but at least I would have expected it."

"The self hate that by far the hardest thing I will ever deal with."

"I wish I knew it was tied to Anxiety and it can make it worse, and OCD worse. I wish I was told that you would not feel like your self not because of having a baby, but that you would feel like you lost interest in who you were. That you don't have to have suicidal thoughts. Although I did have a ton of thoughts that something bad would happen to my daughter. Like a lot of fear."

" Inner conflict.... You are supposed to be happy but are so filled with sadness. Guilt for wanting the pregnancy so bad but then feeling incredibly guilty for doing this to yourself and your family." 

"That PPD can last for years, and it's normal to have certain feelings. You're not the only mother in the world suffering from PPD." 

"When people that notice that you aren't happy say, "Oh, but you should be so happy!"... right. That's why there is a problem."

That it is real. Sometimes you don't know what's going on but it gets better. And it's okay to ask for help from the people who tell you to ask for help. I.e. your doctor. I was afraid and ashamed but looking back I'm glad I got help. And stand up for yourself if you are like me and don't have family support or understanding."

"That the symptoms of PPD aren't necessarily centred around the stereotypical 'crying all the time', and that healthcare providers who are in contact with a post-partum mom should be more aware of this. It seemed that the only person who knew what I was experiencing was (eventually, after I did my own research upon suspecting that I wasn't feeling 'quite right' and that my usual doctors had perhaps missed something) the psychiatrist - and chances are you wouldn't specifically see the psychiatrist/psychologist unless your GP or gynaecologist suggested it or wrote you a reference!"  

"That scary thoughts will happen!! Almost every mom I've talked to, ppd or not, have had horrible thoughts of baby drowning, falling down the stairs, car crashing etc etc. I took those thoughts and believed I was some monster who wanted it to happen. Those thoughts soon turned into deliberately hurting my son and whether or not I was at risk of “snapping" and doing it." 

"If someone had warned me about these thoughts it may not have escalated as badly. It is NOT all rainbows and butterflies immediately!!! It's ok if your not immediately “in love," for some the transition into being a mommy is a little harder and that's OK!!!"
 
 
 


(This last one is my favorite.)
"I wish I had been continuously told that asking for help, in any way shape or form, is not a sign of weakness. It's a sign of strength and endurance. To see that you need help, and to ask for it is one of the bravest things a mother can do for her children. To see how much they need you, and to WANT to get better, that is strength. Being a mom is the bravest job in the word. Sometimes we don't feel very brave, sometimes we feel like cowards, but asking for help is not a weakness. As moms we always put their needs above ours, yes they need us to be there, but WE need to feel good. Taking time for ourselves is something to never, ever feel guilty about. Making ourselves feel good matters. You are strong, even when you don't feel it. You are better than you think you are."



I am speaking up about PPD because I wish someone had spoken up to me before I had my son. I wish all of these incredible women did not feel so alone, ashamed and guilty for something they had no control over. Ladies, WE NEEDED HELP. We need to push for awareness so that other new moms wont suffer the same way we did/do! We need to speak out and stand up for our sisters with mental illness! I honestly think that PPD brings you down to your lowest. Well, now I'M BACK. I did not let Postpartum Depression win! And I want to help all the moms I can to get the help they need. Please, please, PLEASE don't be afraid to get help. 

You are not alone.   

To help me raise awareness, or to learn more about PPD, you can follow me on Instagram @diariesofasupermom.  



   

Confessions of a SuperMom

Some days I seriously feel like I am failing.

Some days I can't seem to shake off the exhaustion, and we spend the whole day coloring or watching movies. 

Some days I go to the dollar store, just to have somewhere to go. Some days we spend the whole morning outside, running around until we have cherry red noses. 

Some days I set up the teepee and we play in it all day long. Some days I miss Tyler so much that I cry. 

Some days friends, strangers, and even family unknowingly hurt my feelings, and I have to hold it in until I get two seconds to lock myself in the bathroom and cry. Some days I'm a little sensitive. Some days I don't let comments phase me. 

Some days I get lonely. Motherhood can be lonely. And yet some days I just want to hide in my house and never come out. 

But I know what it is like to miss every single one of these moments. I know what it is like to miss finding that first tooth and seeing his first steps and hearing that first word. I would rather have these days with my boys. Even when they are exhausting and lonely.  Being a working mom was hard. Being a Stay at home mom is hard in its own way. But I love it. And that is why I try so hard to keep my social media feed positive. It helps remind me of what I have and how blessed I am. I'm not trying to claim to be perfect at all of this. I'm not trying to rub anything in anyone's face, and I'm sorry I made people feel that way. I'm just a normal mom who just wants to fit in. I just like to share the good moments and highlights of my day. Because sometimes those bright moments are all that keeps me going. 

Life After Hyperemesis

Not many people know this, but about a week after I had Benjamin I became severely dehydrated and Tyler rushed me to the ER in the middle of the night for IV fluids. I wasn't still throwing up. The problem was that for the last few months every time I drank water I would vomit. And not just throw up once and be done. I would puke violently multiple times after attempting to drink water, well after it left my system. The closer I got to my due date the worse it got. It was like my first trimester all over again.

Directly after having Benjamin I had zofran in my system because they gave it to my through my IV to keep me from throwing up during delivery and after I had him I could feel the constant nausea lift. I ate a TON during our hospital stay. Burgers, Cafe Rio, and one pound of Cadbury Mini Eggs quickly caught me up on all the weight I lost. I was STARVING.

But I was a little afraid of water. I could drink it, and when I did it was great, but I would still get a little sick just thinking about it coming up so many times.

I was so thirsty during my pregnancy. I would desperately suck on ice chips and pray that it stayed down. I can still hear the home health care nurse challenging me to drink one tablespoon of water every half hour. Just one. Have you ever puked so hard it came out your nose? Having water shoot out your nose every hour is not fun. I eventually got to a point where when I got thirsty all I could think about was a big bag of IV fluids.

I guess with having a one year old, a new born, being sleep deprived, learning to nurse and keep up with everything, I neglected to take a sip of water. I was pretty mad that I needed an IV even after I delivered.
 


But once I started to drink and eat more, I had more energy than I had in a LONG time. I remember my aunt stopped by about a month after I had Benjamin to see if I needed help and she was surprised to see me in an apron and baking cookies and doing crafts with my toddler. Things that I had wanted to do for so long but was too sick to do it.

But I still had struggles that a lot of women don't usually get after pregnancy. Pieces of my teeth are breaking off. A fellow HG mom I know completely lost a tooth when she bit into a piece of toast shortly after having her baby. It is normal to lose clumps of hair about four months after delivery. My hair fell out DURING my pregnancy AND after delivery. Hello, big bald spot. I had to cut my bangs to hide it.


We are constantly watching for signs of organ failure. I was on TPN for a while and for about two months I did not eat or drink one single thing. I relied on the TPN for all of my nutrition and fluids before my body rejected my PICC line and with the way I reacted to the TPN my doctor told us to just be cautious and watch for signs of organ failure. 

It has been two years since I have come in contact with fruit snacks and saltine crackers. I cannot smell them without gagging. My two year old has never had them and I probably wont give them to him for a long time. Wendy's Frosty and Panda Express are also on my list of things to never eat again.

And now every time I start to feel nauseated I start to panic. Right after Christmas I had the flu and threw up. Tyler asked if I was pregnant (I have an IUD this time) but I knew I wasn't because I felt better after I puked. When I'm pregnant it doesn't feel better. 

But I am so excited for 2015. I won't be sick and I won't have an tiny baby. I will soon have two toddlers. I am so excited to take my boys swimming, and to the park! I'm so excited to teach them soccer and get flip flop tan lines and RUN! I am so thankful to be HEALTHY, both mentally and physically. And as hard as it was, I am truly thankful that my boys are so close in age. The bigger Benjamin gets, the better they seem to be getting along. I think (and hope) they will be dear friends. I am glad they will have each other.
I'm glad they will have me. 



I am excited for the adventures that await us!






Life as a Fire Wife

Today I am addressing another frequently asked question.

"What is it like being married to a Firefighter? How do you handle him being gone so much and missing things like birthdays and holidays?"

I am going to be honest, this was the only reason I was ever hesitant for Tyler to be a firefighter. I didn't want to be single-moming it and have him miss so much. My grandpa was a firefighter and I knew how dangerous the job was and how much he would miss. But I promised him I would support him no matter what and we would make the best out of every situation. It has been an adjustment but I think we are getting the hang of things.

Most firefighters that are part-time like Tyler, and even a lot of the full-time firefighters have another job when they aren't at the fire station. Tyler also works for a hospital. Some days he does three shifts in a row, bouncing between jobs. He works so hard for us and I love him so much for it.


There are some times that are hard. For example, we had a nasty wind storm last week. It was dangerous to be outside and the temperature was dropping fast.  As this wind storm started, I discovered a hole in our back kitchen door that was letting in the frigid air. On top of that, our furnace broke and my youngest son was throwing up and was showing signs of dehydration. We were freezing and and sock that I stuffed in the hole to keep the cold out just wasn't cutting it. Tyler was at work and wouldn't be home for another 12 hours. My awesome parents came over and Daddy patched the hole, fixed the furnace and brought pedialyte for my youngest boy. I honestly don't know what I would have done if my parents hadn't shown up. Nights like that are very hard.

But when he is home it makes it that much more special. We have time to take the boys to do something fun, or declare it pajama day and stay inside and just relax. The times when Tyler is home is our family time and we don't let anything get in the way. We schedule everything down to the last minute. On Christmas day we drove our separate cars because Tyler was starting his shift at the hospital that night. But we were extremely blessed to have Tyler on Christmas and Christmas Eve. I know we won't always be so lucky.

Our Family Nights are not always on Mondays. Family Night is whenever Tyler is home, and sometimes it is just the boys and myself.

I often attempt to take the boys to church by myself. We almost never make it the whole time but I know as the boys get older it will get easier. 

I also love that the fire station that Tyler is at does cute little parties for the firefighters and their families during holidays. For example, we were able to go to a Halloween party at the station because Tyler was going to be working Halloween. It was so much fun and the boys LOVED IT.



In fact, my boys love everything about the fire station. But what little boy wouldn't?

When we go a few days without seeing Tyler, we like to go visit him at the station. The other firefighters are amazing and so kind to us. Sometimes my boys even get lucky and get to ride in the fire truck while they are pulling it in or turn on the ambulance lights. 

If you follow me on Instagram or Facebook, you'll probably start to notice that I will be posting our holiday pictures a few days early or late, depending on when he is working. 


This year Tyler was going to be gone for New Years. Four years ago, Tyler was my first New Years kiss.

(The above picture is us four years ago, just before our New Years kiss... Aren't we adorable??) 

This year, we welcomed the new year over Facetime, and he wouldn't be home until January 2nd. So, that is when we decided we would celebrate the new year.

Two days after everyone else celebrated New Years, we took our boys to Union Station to see the "choo-choos" as Drew calls them. 

And later that night we drank Sparkling Cider and I got my New Years kiss. 


We might not always celebrate things on the their exact date, but we do make time to celebrate them as a family and that is all that matters. There is a good chance I won't be seeing my firefighter on Valentines Day. And that is OK. We will be celebrating when we can. 

It is hard to watch him go when I know I wont see him for a few days. Especially when the boys start to ask for him. We always pray for him and he calls us when he can. I send him pictures and videos of the boys often.




I wasn't sure how I would like being a fire wife, but I am actually taking a lot better than I thought I would. It has helped me to become more independent. I am learning to do things on my own.  My sweet grandma recently passed away and the last conversation I had with her was about being a fire wife. She took care of SEVEN children while my grandpa was a firefighter for Salt Lake City. It was hard and I don't know how she did it, but she did it very well. And if she can do it, so can I. I think of her in my moments of weakness, when I am so frustrated and tired that I just want to hide in my bathroom and stuff my face with Oreos. I hope I can handle things just as she did, with the grace of a queen.

I am really proud of Tyler and the job that he has chosen. He absolutely LOVES it and I couldn't be happier for him! 

I hope this answers everyone's questions! Have a good weekend!